Oneironauts
by dfriendly
Summary: -"He had wanted her—wanted this—for so long. It had started out as his typical playboy lust and he wasn’t quite sure when it had changed. But he could tell by her expression that she had wanted the same thing for nearly as long." TIVA, post Judgement Day.
1. On a Ship

'He had wanted her—wanted _this_—for so long. It had started out as his typical playboy lust and he wasn't quite sure when it had changed. But he could tell by her expression that she had wanted the same thing for nearly as long.' TIVA, post Judgement Day.

AN: I own nothing.

**Oneironauts: Chapter 1**

Tony was lying awake on his cot. He was thinking, something he seemed to be doing a lot of ever since he had been assigned to the USS Reagan.

But he was surprised when he found himself so distracted he had not heard the door open or close.

He sat up. "Ziva?"

"Hello, Tony."

Ziva stood before him, in the middle of the small cabin. She wasn't smiling nor had any other expression that acknowledged the peculiarity of her sudden presence there.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," she said simply. Her voice was steady and her accent especially melodious to his ears.

Ziva was looking at him intently and did not break her gaze as she unzipped her jacket and let it fall to the floor.

"How did you get here?"

She did not answer, but merely crossed her arms over her chest and pulled her shirt off over her head.

Tony stared, not knowing what to say. He finally recognized what the look in her eyes was: subtle seductiveness. Each article she took off, the harder Tony found it to bring up why she was undressing.

She kicked of her shoes and socks. Then she unbuttoned her cargo pants and stepped out of them once they slid from her hips to the floor.

He expected her to stop, but she continued to reach behind her and unclasp her bra as she neared his cot. Once she was right in front of him, she tucked her thumbs in the sides of her thong and wriggled it off as well.

Before he could stop her, Ziva reached for his blanket and flung it off him. It was no secret at NCIS that Tony slept in the buff, something she must have been planning on, as she then straddled his lap and put her hands on his shoulders.

Tony still hadn't regained his speech. He had thought of similar situations with Ziva before, but it actually happening, without the hypotheticals, was another story.

She was still looking into his eyes with her alluring dark ones when she finally broke the silence.

"Are you afraid of me, Tony?" she said amusedly.

He actually chuckled and half-smiled as if it were any other situation than this. "You know I am, Ziva."

Her mouth twitched slyly. "Well, you don't have to be," she said before leaning in to kiss him.

Tony now laid his hands on her waist to bring her with him as he lay back on his cot. The kiss soon became more fervent and hungry, Tony's hands roaming her curves and Ziva pressing her body against his.

She kissed his neck and up to his ear. "Tony," she purred, grinding into him.

His body tensed in response but couldn't speak. Ziva ground once more against him and repeated his name. He squeezed her ass, keeping her flush against him. He gave a low groan.

Ziva raised her head to look at him, her eyes blurry with want. Taking queue, Tony let her go so she could raise herself and slide onto him. Tony grasped her thighs. She was sitting up now, her hands stroking his chest, allowing him to get a good view of her.

She was as beautiful as ever, her confidence apparent in her posture. The hair he couldn't help but love draped her shoulders and framed her face. He reached up to tuck some of it behind her ear, letting his hand run through it. Then he grazed his knuckles across her cheek, her chin, her lips…

He had wanted her—wanted _this_—for so long. It had started out as his typical playboy lust and he wasn't quite sure when it had changed. But he could tell by her expression that she had wanted the same thing for nearly as long.

A small smile graced her face as he grinned back. Their gaze on each other was intense and communicating more than words could. It seemed like a lot of their communication at NCIS had been nonverbal. What they said never was nearly as full as their shared looks. And now it was just as true. Neither of them spoke words of love or lust, but their eyes told of both.

Ziva had been steadily picking up pace, yet still making sure to milk every stroke. As she reached her peak her head lolled back and she shut her eyes. Although not easily winded, her breathing was labored. Tony watched her, her reaction adding to his own excitement. Finally, it was when she gasped his name that he, too, came, not knowing that so much satisfaction could come from her saying it.

She lay next to him, on her side (and he on his back), with not much room for them both on the cot. The arm of his she was not resting on was stroking her face again.

"I missed you, Ziva."

"Why do you think I came?"

"You knew I'd miss you?"

"Of course you would, Tony. And I had to come back…come back for _you_."

Her dark lashes drooped, making Tony realize how tired he was as well. But he didn't want to sleep; he wanted to stay up with Ziva. His eyes shut once, twice, three times.

The fourth time, he jerked himself awake. But Ziva had vanished from his arms. She was gone; her clothes were gone. And even though he could still remember the feel of her, he knew that she had never been there except in his dreams.


	2. On a Desk

Ziva had just switched off her computer and begun loading stuff into her bag when Tony stood up and sat on the edge of her desk.

"Leaving already?" he grinned.

Ziva looked around the dark room, empty besides the two of them for half an hour. "It's late, Tony. I'm surprised you stuck around for so long."

"Been waiting for you."

She raised her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was stuck on a ship, missing you all. Now I think we should spend some quality time together."

Ziva leaned against the desk. "Like a movie night?" she asked tentatively.

"Sure."

They hadn't had movie nights since when Gibbs had briefly retired. Tony would come to her place. They would either cook for each other or order take-out. Then they would watch movies that Tony insisted she watch. But after awhile, they had stopped, either because of him seeing Jeanne or Gibbs returning or both. It had also been the closest they'd come to having a romantic relationship. Was that what he meant by wanting "quality time"?

"Well, I don't know."

"Oh, come on, Zee-vah," he smiled and stood up to face her. "I missed you."

Ziva felt uncomfortable. "And we all missed you, Tony."

Tony suddenly turned serious. "No, Ziva, I missed _you_… you especially." He reached up to put his hand at the side of her face, his thumb stroking the skin in front of her ear. His body was now very close to hers, trapping her against her desk.

She could have easily twisted his hand away or kneed him, but she didn't. She couldn't do that. She only ever hurt him in jest and right now, Tony was far from joking. His face was earnest, with a glimmer of longing in his eyes. She couldn't push him away, and neither did she want to.

"I thought about you, you know …while afloat. Even dreamed about you," he said, his voice even. "I knew that Gibbs would fix things and we would be a team again. And that when we were all back, I wouldn't make the same mistakes."

"What do you mean, Tony?" she asked quietly.

"You know what I mean," he whispered, tilting his chin down.

Keeping his eyes on her for as long as possible, Tony brought his lips to hers and kissed her. It was slow, their mouths barely parted and their tongues barely touching.

After a minute, Tony pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Signaling her readiness to continue, Ziva placed her hands on his shoulders. He gave a small smile before picking her up by the waist and setting her on the edge of her desk. His hands ran through her thick hair to hold the back of her and drew her back into a kiss.

Ziva wrapped her legs around his body, pulling him in closer to her. She wanted all the contact she could get. She kissed him hungrily, wanting more, and Tony was more than willing to appease her appetite. She felt her way to the collar of his shirt, hastily unbuttoning it. Tony followed suit and pulled her shirt over her head. Then he leaned her back onto the desk, his body following hers so that he was bent on top of her.

Normally, Ziva preferred to be on top. She hated feeling trapped under a man, and not in charge. Maybe it was her Mossad training that caused her to make sure she was in control of a situation at all times. But with Tony, she didn't feel the same claustrophobia. She felt safe, actually wanting his body weight comfortingly on top of hers.

Now she began to fumble with his belt. She needed him, needed him now. Tony helped her, undoing his pants and letting them fall and pool around his feet. He somehow managed to then take off her pants and underwear as well.

Resuming their kiss, Ziva felt his hands snake around her to unclasp her bra, shedding the final bit of clothing between their aching bodies.

She nudged him with her legs, wanting him inside her.

He grunted, "Ziva," obviously feeling the heat radiating from her center.

"Tony," she practically pleaded.

He complied, slowly pushing into her. His pace steady and sure, he kissed her with renewed passion, the combination causing her to moan. He said her name again, sounding more wonderful to her than when any other man has said it. Everything just seemed so perfect.

And then it faded away…

-------

Ziva woke up disoriented. It was still dark out, no doubt the middle of the night. A foot away, she recognized the familiar feel of a male body next to her, breathing quietly and still asleep.

But this man, she knew, was not Tony. Tony was hundreds of miles away, in the middle of an ocean, and she was in Israel, likely to never see her old partner again.

Ziva rolled onto her stomach, willing herself back to sleep. But the tautness between her legs coupled with renewed thoughts of Tony made it impossible.


	3. At Home

Now that you have read Ch 1 & 2 (and I hope you were surprised both times- if not, oh well) I will tell you what "Oneironaut" means.

_Oneironaut: "one who travels through dream worlds and/or explores alternate realities." *Wikipedia- Oneironology_

In their own way, Ziva and Tony were oneironauts, as they were in the 'dream world' acting on what they wished would happen in reality. (okay, it's kind of a bs of a title, but I couldn't think of anything else.)

**Oneironauts: Ch 3**

Months later, the team was reunited.

And although everyone was happy to be back together again, Ziva still had misgivings.

After four months of being home in Israel and back in Mossad, she had just started to readjust to it. At first, she had felt strange. Israel had become a distant memory while in the States, but her return home came with inevitable comfort. She had her old life back. Things with her father were even becoming better.

And she met a man, becoming involved with him. And it was so easy, this relationship. She didn't have to wonder how he felt or how she felt. She wasn't constantly tortured by its complexities and where it might be going. It was simple and uncomplicated.

So when she received the orders to come back—the orders that she had once hoped for so badly for—she was unsure.

Surely, she missed NCIS. It had been her home and surrogate family for three years. Gibbs had been a better father, even in his nonchalance, than her own. He was always concerned for his team in a way that her father had never shown. Ducky was always helpful and kind. Abby and McGee were good friends who she could count on. And Tony… she wasn't ever sure what Tony was.

And now, things were strained with Tony. Sometimes she thought he felt something for her. The way he looked at her, curious and wanting, excited her in ways that she knew she shouldn't be.

He had even put up pictures of her in his cabin as an agent afloat. Pictures that were hardly the equivalent to the innocent snapshot of Abby next to them. Something that occurred to her was that anyone coming into his cabin could easily assume her Tony's girlfriend. Was it perhaps not far off from what he felt? Did he feel a romantic ownership of her? Was it like in the old movies, where sailors put up pictures of the girls they wanted to come home to?

And although she pretended to be angry and violated, she secretly felt flattered, even thrilled. Tony didn't just save the pictures away somewhere, to have a lusty peek at them whenever he felt like it. He put them on his board, as a constant reminder.

But this also complicated things. Would getting in a relationship with him be wise? If it something between them did happen, like in her dream, what would happen after that?

-------

Ziva confused the hell out of Tony. He could just never figure her out.

One minute, he'd think that she wanted him the way he wanted her, the next she would act as if nothing was between them. And that made it impossible for him to make up his own mind.

He'd always known Ziva to be flirtatious. He didn't know if it was something she had picked up in Mossad to get what she wanted or just the way she naturally was. But he often felt like she did it more with him than anyone else. Was it just because it so easily worked on him? Or was it because, underneath the façade, she was genuinely flirting with him?

Yet things had changed since the team had reassembled. Their relationship was not as easy-going as it had once been. Instead of free flirtations and joking going between them, they were both more guarded with each other. Tony felt like everything that one of them said was carefully analyzed by the other.

And of course, there was the question of the man in the photo—the man who Ziva had left behind in Tel Aviv. Tony remembered a conversation they had had while he was still an agent afloat, one of their first after reuniting. Ziva had practically admitted to not wanting to come back and leaving a lover behind. And that irked Tony. Why would she not want to come back? Didn't she like it here at NCIS? Who was this guy that he might have affected her so?

Although Tony had guessed about this mystery lover before, it wasn't until finding the picture in her desk that it felt real. She wasn't just taking a trip home, to see her family and friends, maybe to straighten up some final things. No, it was to see him. It must have been. This mystery man, shirtless and on a _yacht_.

But since finding the picture and Ziva flying off to see him (first class—did this guy pay for her tickets? He probably owned the yacht, too. Who was this guy? And how was Tony supposed to compete?) Tony had backed off. It was obvious that Ziva didn't think about Tony that way. Sure, she flirted, she teased. But at the end of the day, she went back to Israel to be with her Israeli yachtist. Ziva was Israeli, a part of her that Tony wondered if he could ever fully relate to, and would one day return to her homeland, leaving Tony behind. As acclimated to America as she could become, Tony knew that she loved her home, perhaps more than she could ever love him.

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So I had planned this to be the end, as a kind of 'wrapping up'. Now I can't be sure if I might continue. It might also depend on what happens in the next episode "Silent Night" (I've heard speculations of Tiva, but who knows?)

So… review please?


	4. On the Phone

**Oneironauts: Chapter 4 **

ZIva was on hold.

Cradling the phone against her shoulder, she sifted through the files on her desk, running a mental check list of what Gibbs duties Gibbs had doled out to her. Or well, the duties she doled out to herself, as had become habit whenever under his gaze.

Gibbs, in question, was upstairs with Vance, ducking it out. Or was it "duking" it out?

McGee and Abby were in her lab going through a dead petty officer's heavily encrypted computer.

And Tony was sitting across from her, also on hold, from the looks of it. He was doodling—she believed that was the correct word—absentmindedly.

The music streaming through the phone receiver was some smooth, sexy jazz. It reminded her of the type of music Tony had sometimes put on when he used to come over to her apartment while Gibbs had 'retired.' Coincidently, it had always made her think of something that Tony would put on for a date while wining, dining, and inevitably trying to score.

Yet that summer, Tony had never had made a move. They had flirted playfully. They had gotten rather close to each other's personal space. She remembered how they would stand flush, side-by-side, while preparing dinner and how she sometimes would spread out on the couch while watching movies, with her feet in his lap, or her head on his shoulder. But he had never made an advancement.

Although, Ziva could remember several instances where she wondered if he might kiss her. Sometimes it had been while standing so close to him she could feel the heat from his body. And one time, the very last time before Gibbs had come back and they had stopped their regular visits, was while wrestling for the remote. She won, of course, landing on top of him on the coach. It was the third time she had found herself laying on him, the second time clothed. But unlike the last time, it wasn't too cold to take off their clothing.

She certainly remembered the first time lying on top of him, when she had not had a scrap of clothing between them. She could still remember what it felt like to be lying on top of his naked body. And what it had felt like kissing him.

She couldn't imagine doing a similar assignment with Tony now. Certainly, she would easily forget that they were working, and just let herself get lost in the moment.

However, she couldn't be sure if Tony would now be as willing to as he once would have. He was much more serious about work now—ever since Jenny had died. No doubt, he would see the danger of compromising a mission for personal pleasure.

But if they weren't on a mission… maybe then he would be willing to relive their undercover experience.

...What was she thinking? She had Michael now. She shouldn't be thinking about sleeping with Tony. About their naked bodies being pressed together, his lips on hers, his hands roving her body, his—

Ziva jumped at the sudden voice in her ear. "Thank you for holding…" it said sweetly, yanking her back to reality.

-------

Tony's pen made lazy circles on his notepad, wearing the paper thin. He was currently listening to a fiber optic company's goals, promises, and history being recited by an informative male voice.

He could deal with muzak… most of the time. But he hated the recorded messages that played on a loop.

He looked across the work area at Ziva's desk. Her head was bent, either reading the open file on her desk or just spacing out while staring at it.

Her hair was loose today, cascading over her shoulders and partially blocking her face.

Tony loved Ziva's hair. He couldn't' say that he'd ever really cared about a girl's hair, but for some reason he had always liked Ziva's.

He remembered the first time he'd met her. Even in cargo pants, carrying a sack bag, her hair in a bandana and looking like she'd just been roughing it in a European hostel, she had radiated a raw sexuality the moment he saw her. Most women in a similar costume would hardly feel as sexually confident as he had soon found that she was.

Then, once she knew she had gotten his attention, she had strategically taken off her bandana, letting her volumous hair free.

That was the way he liked her hair best. Completely free. He liked that she didn't take much care about her hair. In fact, it was rather unlike many of the perfectly groomed women he once pursued.

So because it was natural and wild, he also knew it required no special care taken by a lover. Girls hated when their time-spent hair was ruined. But Ziva's was unmussable.

He remembered being able to run his hands through it—their first time undercover together. It was perfectly soft, no sticky gel or stiff hairspray to heed his fingers. And he also liked the excuse he had to tuck her hair back out of her face, so that he could touch her face.

Which is what he wanted to do now. He thought about coming up and pushing her hair back while stroking the skin on her cheek. Then he could entangle his hand in her hair, leaning her head back so he could kiss her.

And if he wasn't completely wrong, she would welcome it. Perhaps even take control. Like, the first time they had kissed, by pulling on his tie, her small and determined hands unbuttoning his shirt and making their way down to his belt. Perhaps this time, reaching for him and—

Gibbs stormed into the room, his sudden and authoritative voice jolting Tony out of his fantasy.

"You two can stop making calls. Abby and McGee have a new lead."

The daydream would have to wait.


End file.
